#i’m so tired of talking about cakes like bone tired man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

#bad things happen bingo #buckybarnesbingo2021 #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #5k...holy god

2K notes · View notes

minsyal · 3 years

Text

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg imagine #lord heisenberg

553 notes · View notes

clarissalance · 3 years

Text

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you?

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.)

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!!

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat.

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows.

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation.

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent. With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.”

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks?

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away.

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said: ‘Farewell, my comrades’.

For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword.

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

“ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone?

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground!

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.”

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department.

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you.

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them.

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years.

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out.

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed.

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?"

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button.

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful.

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?”

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him.

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank.

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes.

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture.

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike.

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you.

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground.

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes.

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks.

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating.

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry.

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch.

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up.

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby.

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ” His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent?

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo.

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort. Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what?

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you.

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you?

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action.

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about.

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day? You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now!

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm.

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more.

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist.

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering.

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure.

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route.

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack.

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can.

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder?

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back.

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively.

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go?

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.”

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic.

#kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #no beta we kayak like tim #genshin impact #clarissalance #who has the upper hand ?#argument #fluff #tension #smart reader #strategist #genshin varka #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc

862 notes · View notes

forhereyesonlyyy · 3 years

Text

love call. // iz*one, kcw. // one-shot.

in which missing your hardworking girlfriend causes you to do ungodly things, like staying up until two in the morning to drag her out for a late night date.

word count: 2.2k

author's note: chaewon on the brain all day 🥰 this is just something short and sweet for all my fellow chaewon thinkers 😩☝️ i wish to see her on a stage again 🥺

tags: fluff, wlw, established relationship, goofy, is it obvious i'm running out of things to say here.

warnings: none.

Perhaps your friends were right when they said that your girlfriend was the only person that could get you to act right because if she were around you right at this moment, you wouldn't be walking around the empty streets at two in the morning wearing shorts and a simple jacket. But you couldn't sleep to save your life, and you were getting tired just pacing around your room. Besides, what's a better plan than to take a short stroll around the neighborhood?

You could have probably watched another Netflix movie or played until your eyes started burning, but contrary to popular belief, you actually wanted to live beyond your 40s. It's not like walking around in the dark with absolutely no regard for what might be watching in the shadows was any safer, but at least you were having fun!

The city was practically dead anyway. Not even cars were seen driving around the streets. It truly felt like you were the only person in the world, and you loved that feeling. But it would have been more lovely if your girlfriend was with you.

Being an idol sure is demanding. I hope she's taking care of herself.

As if she could hear your thoughts from the other side of the city, your phone starts ringing and the special ringtone you set up just for when she calls or texts you starts filling the air. You immediately pulled out your phone and grinned when you saw her contact name on the screen.

You eagerly pressed the green button and put the phone against your ear, "Hi, beautiful."

Kim Chaewon laughs from the other line and you could feel your heart growing twice its size. Oh, how you longed to hear her laugh in person instead of through your phone. IZ*ONE has been busy with their Japanese promotions and they only got to go home a month ago, even then they had to attend a lot more activities. They had no time for rest, or to have a nice day off. It was the main reason why you have been so very worried about your girlfriend.

"I knew you'd be awake. Can't sleep?" Chaewon asks. You could hear her grunt, she was probably getting ready to sleep. While you appreciated her checking up on you at this ungodly hour, you wished that she just went straight to sleep. God knows how long of a day she probably had.

"As always. What's your excuse?" You jog across the street, your eyes fixed on the glowing sign of a cafè. Now you were fully aware of how you just stumbled into a street full of stores that are open until after midnight, and you have never been more thankful for bringing your wallet with you.

"Not to sound like I'm in love with you but," Chaewon pauses, and you could almost see her biting her bottom lip out of both nervousness and enthusiasm. "I was missing you— have been missing you. A lot. Too much, maybe?" Chaewon laughs at herself, and then mutters some nonsense that you couldn't decipher because her words made you stop on your tracks and tear up just a little.

Maybe you were too sensitive, or too dramatic, but you couldn't even put how much you missed her into words. For the months she was gone, you lost count of how many times you wished she would just come back to you. Perhaps you really were too attached, because at some point, you were in over your head at the thought of Chaewon realizing that romance did not have a place in her life as a rising star.

It was your biggest fear, getting abandoned by the person you love the most. Before Chaewon became your girlfriend, she was your most precious childhood friend. There was not a time in your life where she was never there for you, and you truly belived that your friendship would go on for the rest of your life.

You realized that your feelings for Chaewon was more than what a normal person would feel for their best friend when you entered your new high school together. She was just... glowing when you both attended the entrance ceremony, and you vividly remember how she gently took your hand in hers and promised that she'll do her best to make you proud.

But she didn't need to promise anything. Chaewon was already perfect in your eyes, you knew she wouldn't disappoint you ever.

Then on the same night she was announced to be a member of IZ*ONE, Chaewon expressed her gratitude to you by coming into your house and wordlessly kissing you while in tears. You didn't need her to confess her feelings through words since her kiss had already told you everything she wanted you to hear.

And now here you were, stronger than ever despite not having been seen each other for months too long.

"I miss you too, Chae," You replied after collecting yourself. There was no way that you would just allow yourself to break down in tears in the middle of the street. "Tell you what, the moment you're free to hang out, I'll get you that delicious strawberry cake we always loved consuming."

Chaewon laughs again, and the sound just makes you grin like a crazy person, "I'll hold you to that, (Y/N)." A yawn escapes her, and she groans. She probably knows that now you know that she's tired, you'll go on and on about how she should go to sleep. And you most certainly will!

"Go to sleep, baby. I'll text you when I wake up." You said. You did want to talk more, you wanted to hear Chaewon's voice for so many more hours but you'd hate to be the reason why she's so worn out. There will be opportunities some other time, I just have to be patient.

"Mm~ okay, I will," You hear some shuffling in the background. It was Chaewon making herself comfortable in her bed. "Wait. (Y/N), my love, are you seriously outside right now?" Your girlfriend questions. And all of a sudden, she didn't sound so tired anymore.

You scratched your head, "Um. No. What makes you think that?" It was never a good idea to lie to the person that knows you better than anyone else, but you had to try!

"I can literally hear the wind against your mic." Chaewon said. You squeezed your eyes shut, of course you would lose the battle before it even started.

Sighing, you turned away from the various shops, "Fine, fine. I am outside. I just... took a little walk because I couldn't fall asleep. I'll be going back home now, where I'm safe and where my beloved wouldn't yell at me." You replied with a teasing smile although Chaewon couldn't see it.

"It's dangerous to be out so late in the night, babe. I thought I told you that if you can't sleep, you can just call me?" You could hear Chaewon sit back up. Her tone was firm, you knew you couldn't joke around with her anymore. You take a seat at the nearest empty bench and snuggled yourself in your jacket. It was getting colder, but something inside you told you to not go home just yet despite your girlfriend's scolding.

"But you've been overworked to the bone, Chae. I didn't want to be an inconvenience," You admitted. You nervously fiddled with the zipper of your jacket. "You shouldn't even be calling me right now, you know?"

"(Y/N)... I'll use my time however I want, and if it's to talk to you, I'll take every sleepless nights I can get," Oh, you were so hopelessly in love with this woman. You leaned back on the bench as tears suddenly started falling down your cheeks. It absolutely infuriated you how Chaewon just knew what to say to you. "You're never a bother, okay? I love you, I really do." Chaewon means every word that she says, you could feel it in your heart.

You held back a sob, "I love you more, dummy."

Chaewon explodes in a burst of adorable giggles, "You're the dummy here! But in all seriousness, please go home. I wouldn't want you to get sick when I'm not there to take care of you." Even though your girlfriend was right, the brightly lit shops further down the street made several light bulbs in your head illuminate, and you just couldn't pass up on the opportunity to do that.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm going back now." You said, now jogging towards the bike rental shop. The staff sitting by the entrance gave you a small wave as you approached him.

"Good girl," Chaewon yawns again, and you hear her collapse against the pillows. "Don't stay awake for too long now. Love you." Her words were slurred, you just knew she was one second away from running off into dreamland.

You smiled brightly, "Love you more." And with that, you hung up. You finally looked at the old man sitting by the bikes with shining, eager eyes.

Genius, that is what I am.

Exactly thirty minutes later, you start regretting your life choices. You were standing right outside IZ*ONE's backyard dead in the night, it wouldn't be surprising if someone mistakes you as a burglar or an obsessive fan and decides to call the cops on you. But you were already there, you would only wear yourself out if you decide to turn back now. Taking a deep breath, you carefully dropped the bike on the ground and took out your phone.

Before you could think to contact Chaewon once again, the sound of footsteps hurriedly approaching made you panic. I'm really about to be arrested like this, huh? It's been a fun life I guess.

"EUNBI-UNNIE, THERE'S A THIEF— wait, (Y/N)?!"

As if it the deity of fortune was looking down on you, Kim Chaewon stands a few meters in front of you wearing a shocked look on her face and a single slipper on her hand. It was probably what she was going to attack you with, had she not realized that it was you who had technically snuck into their backyard.

You smiled sheepishly at your startled girlfriend, "Surprise?" You barely finished speaking when Chaewon throws herself onto you, literally. You lost your balance and fell into the grass. Chaewon squeals into your ear and plants several kisses onto your face, and you laugh as she does so.

Chaewon pauses and holds your face for a good minute, staring at you as if she couldn't believe that you were right there with her. Then she engulfs you in a more gentle hug, and you wrap your arms around her waist, taking pleasure in the feeling of her loving embrace. Gods, you were about to cry again. It has been way too long since you were physically with Chaewon. You were almost willing to forget whatever plan you had and just cuddle with her for the rest of the night.

"I thought I told you to go home and sleep, you dummy!" Chaewon hits your shoulder, almost in tears herself. You raised yourself from the ground so that she was sitting on your lap, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Just her mere presence would have been enough for you, but now that she was right there, you didn't dare to not take advantage of the moment.

You hugged her closer than you ever have before, and you tilted your head to look into her beautiful eyes that never ceased to make you feel safe and appreciated, "I really love you, Chaewon." The pure sincerity on your voice was what really pushed Chaewon to let go of the restraints and let her tears fall free.

"I love you. I'm glad you're here." Chaewon slightly drips her head down to catch your lips with hers. It felt as if a collection of the world's biggest and most beautiful fireworks had set off inside your heart as you returned the affection. Chaewon always had that effect on you, she made every kiss feel like the first time and it just absolutely makes you swoon. The way she would carefully run her hand through your hair during it all made your heart go crazy.

You were never going to get tired of being in love with Kim Chaewon. Even if the two of you somehow ended up being on the opposite ends of the world, your hearts would always be together. Or something like that.

"This is probably a dumb question, but," Chaewon pulls away and smiles at you. Oh, yeah. Her smiles make your brain go haywire as well. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Your girlfriend asks.

"I'm taking you out on the best date you've ever had, baby," You said with a wide grin. (You never knew, but every time you showed her that stupidly cute smile, Chaewon falls for you even more.) Your face falls immediately a second after, however. "I-If that's okay. I mean, it is pretty late and you're exhausted."

Chaewon beams at you, and gosh you could just feel all her love through it, "I'd love to go on a date with you, (Y/N)," She then takes your face in her hands again, and her eyes immediately drop down to your lips that she has missed so very much. "But maybe after this."

Yeah, now that was a plan you could get behind.

#izone oneshots #izone scenarios #izone x reader #izone reactions #izone imagines #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon imagines #kim chaewon oneshots #kim chaewon scenarios #kim chaewon reactions #girl group oneshots #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #girl group reactions

168 notes · View notes

stetervault · 3 years

Note

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

#rec list #teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fanfic rec #akielosrises #ask

129 notes · View notes

theevilemster · 2 years

Note

Lapin wonderland au - but as the Pool of Tears chapter.

Haven't drawn anything for it, don't have time atm but you can have this WIP of it:

“Alright, here goes nothing,” he said, bracing himself as he took a bite out of the cake. Jigen wasn't one for eating sweets but even he could admit that this tasted good. In fact he ended up eating the entire slice, this would be another regret on a list of several. Instead of a slow, sinking feeling he now felt like he was being grabbed and stretched upwards rapidly. He gave a frightened cry as he was suddenly pressed against the walls of the room, having to curl up just so he didn’t break any bones from how sudden the change was.

“Oh fantastic!” he exclaimed sarcastically as he shuffled around, trying to make himself comfortable at least. “Now I’m stuck!”

There was a small sound of footsteps coming from one of the doors followed by cluttering as it kept hitting against him. Eventually, Jigen saw Lupin the Rabbit squeeze his way out and scramble over his now giant leg. Jigen wanted to grab him and give him a piece of his mind but he didn't want to run the risk of hurting Lupin at this size. Lupin looked up at him, surprised and fearful all at the same time.

“Woah! What happened to you?”

“What happe- What do you mean what happened!?” Jigen snapped. “I was following you! Are you going to tell me what’s going on or help me, or -- Look, just do something man!”

“You didn’t have to follow me,” replied Lupin, his voice lower and serious in tone. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Jigen was stunned.

“What’s that supposed to-?”

“Look, stranger,” interrupted Lupin, his voice now light and playful as usual. “I’d like to help you but I’m late as it is!”

“Lupin!” cried Jigen as Lupin made a dash down the hall they entered from. Jigen desperately tried to reach for him, but his arms were cramped against the wall and Lupin's footsteps had already faded away. Jigen was left alone, sitting in deafening silence. He had never been so confused in his life. Lupin had rabbit ears, that was weird no doubt about it. But what hit harder was how cold and unfeeling Lupin had acted as he talked to him. It wasn’t like Lupin at all, it was like…

Jigen clenched his fists as images began to flood his head. He was in the snow, lights of green and blue flooded the night sky. He was holding Lupin close; talking softly into his ear, “I’ve always been your partner, man…” He could hear not one but two gunshots come from a gun barrel pointed right at him.

Alongside these images came pain, a searing pain striking at his chest so suddenly that he couldn’t yell. Strained gasps escaped his throat, his mind blurred and he could feel… tears? Was he crying? It had been so long since Jigen had cried but he felt it was pretty appropriate now; he was stuck, he was tired and he was stressed as all hell. It was a sudden sinking feeling that snapped him out of it, the images faded away and the pain vanished in an instant. In fact, Jigen was left questioning why he had been crying at all and more so why he was now wading around in a pool of water.

#writing #fanfic #lupin III #jigen #wonderland au #lupin the iii #jigen daisuke #WIP

39 notes · View notes

insomniumstella · 3 years

Text

heartbreaks

bucky x reader

summary: Bucky has experienced many heartbreaks in his life but this might just be the most painful

warnings: angst, some talk about blood, guns, knives, but not really

word count: 1,456

author’s note: got my heart broken and this is the outcome. ruelle’s the other side & war of heart songs fit this perfectly

Bucky was a man of heartbreak. Throughout his life, he experienced many. Some were more gentle than others, but all of them hurt nonetheless. The heartbreak of getting rejected back in his teen years, or the heartbreak of having to see Steve getting beat up. The pain of losing a sister, and later on, the pain of losing himself. The crushing guilt of taking someone's life; it didn't matter if he wasn't in control when he killed all those people. The sin and sorrow didn't ease. Bucky didn't enjoy pain, but he was for sure familiar with it. An intimate feeling but never a pleasurable one. It always crept upon him when he least expected it too. Sometimes it was soft, so slight Bucky wondered if it was even there. Other times, well other times, the pain was excruciating and exhausting, an icy cold feeling that crept into his bones and froze him in place. Those times were the hardest. In those times, he felt utterly hopeless. And even though he promised himself he wouldn't let the pain consume him ever again, there's no way to stop your heart from breaking. That night, the night when Steve walked in with y/n's nearly lifeless body in his hands, proved that pain always finds a way. It's ruthless and unpredictable.

"What happened?" Both Sam and Bucky jumped from their seats. Steve didn't have the energy to answer. His eyes were dull and tired and pleading for someone, anyone, to get the help y/n needed. Bucky saw the injuries on his best friend's body, but the deep, gushing red wounds on y/n made Steve's seem insignificant.

"Buck?" Bucky didn't realize he froze. Didn't realize pain bound him in his bones again. He didn't think much after that, not when her life depended on him. It took a split second for the soldier to take y/n's body from Steve and start running to the medical wing. Bucky has never run this fast in his entire life, not even when his life depended on it. Not even when people chased after him with guns and knives, ready to cut his heart out. No, this was the fastest Bucky has ever run. If Bucky ran fast enough, then maybe, just maybe, she'd get to live. He pressed her tighter to his chest.

"I need a doctor, please." Usually, Bucky remained calm. Usually, he only spoke when it was necessary. Over the years, words became a luxury Bucky didn't feel worthy of. He grew accustomed to staying silent and it's what he did most days. Some thought he was weird, a deadly outcast, a dangerous loner if you will. Others, oh, others didn't even try speaking to him. He was The Winter Soldier after all. What if he lost control? What if he tried to kill them? It was a title destined to burden him forever. Three simple words he could never get rid of, no matter how much or how hard he tried to run away from them. If one thing was for sure, it was that no one could ever hate him more than Bucky hated himself. He was a monster, right? Bucky accepted that the word monster was a name fit for a man like him until she came along.

"She'll survive, right?" He asked once again.

"Mister Barnes, I need you to remove your hand from the stretcher. We're taking her into the emergency surgery room now." Bucky took a shaky breath. y/n was a woman like nothing else. She'd yell snarky remarks at strangers if they looked at him for too long. Ask him the most ridiculous questions to get him to open up, and every once in a while, crack a smile because they were so stupid, he couldn't keep a neutral face. Lounge at him full speed during training when the only other person brave enough to do so was Steve; no, she gave her all every time. Never treated him as a broken man, but always sat outside his bedroom door to let him know she's there if he needs her. Accepted every touch he gave and didn't dare to ask for more, even though Bucky knew how much she loved it. y/n was extraordinary, so it came as no surprise that her love was extraordinary too. A special kind of love people hope to find in their lifetime.

"Please. I need to be in there." Bucky wasn't ready to let go. The world wasn't ready to lose a soul like y/n. Bucky wasn't ready to lose y/n. It was a mean, painful heartbreak to see her fighting for her life and, as much as Bucky hated to admit it, losing.

“Please. Just tell me she’s fine.” He broke down, voice hoarse and tired.

"Mister Barnes, let go." And so they wheeled her away, leaving Bucky utterly hopeless. He hated feeling hopeless. Hated feeling as if there wasn't anything he could do to help. But he wasn't a doctor, wasn't a nurse either, so the only thing he could do was wait.

"You're okay?" Sam sat down beside him. It was just the two of them in the waiting room.

"I'm fine. How's Steve?"

"He needs a couple of bandages, but he'll survive." Sam joked, but his smile quickly fell when he noticed Bucky's expression. "I'm sure y/n will too." The only thing Bucky could do was nod. He thought about the first time she came into his room to help with the nightmares. Sleepy-eyed, wearing an old t-shirt and boxers for a pajama, a pair of fluffy socks on her feet, another in her hand. Here, warm feet, warm thoughts, she said then. Bucky couldn't lose her. He didn't have the chance to admit he wears those damn socks to bed every night since then. He thought about his first birthday at the compound. It was 5 am, everyone else was sleeping, so it came as a surprise when he found y/n in the kitchen when he walked in. The smell of coffee in the room, flour all over her face, clothes, the counters, and a crooked smile on her face. I wasn't sure what to get you for your birthday, so I baked a cake. Sorry it’s kind of ugly!, she said then. It was a very messily decorated cake with too much salt added to it, but Bucky was sure she stayed up all night just to make it for him, so it was the best cake he ever had. Bucky couldn't lose her. He didn't have the chance to admit that the cake meant more to him than she'll ever know. He thought about the first time he joined her for her usual Friday movie night. She had managed to escape going to a fancy gala with the others, instead opting for sweatpants and a big hoodie to hide all bruises and cuts from their mission a couple of hours prior. Bucky was mad as hell at her for the decisions she made on the field that day. I'm alive! No need to worry, she said then, chuckling, but it was the first time he saw fear paint her features. She fell asleep halfway into the movie, her body so worn out it fell against his. Bucky fell asleep a couple of minutes after that, and they both had the pleasure of explaining why they were "cuddling" to their teammates the next morning. But it was the first time Bucky slept peacefully through the night, so he couldn't lose her. He didn't have the chance to admit he was mad because he cared, perhaps so much it scared him, about her. He thought about the first times they snuck out from the compound together for late-night walks. The first times they spent the nights in each other's rooms. The first times they cuddled on movie nights for real. He thought about the first time they kissed too. That time she didn't say much, afraid it was all an illusion, but her body spoke volumes. The feeling of her lips on his, and her trembling hands finding their way into his hair, the nervous but cute smile when they pulled away? Bucky won't ever forget that. So no, he can't lose her yet, because he didn't have the chance to admit he fell in love. Deeply, painfully in love with her.

"Mister Barnes." Sam had already left him to go to sleep when the doctor approached him hours later. It took 4 coffees just for Bucky to stay awake but it didn't matter. All that mattered was her.

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

One sentence was enough to make the world underneath Bucky’s feet come crashing down.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky angst #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x you angst #bucky imagine #bucky oneshot #heartbreak

243 notes · View notes

samwilsonshandsandass · 3 years

Text

Five Times Sam Kissed You First And One Time You Kissed Him First

Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader Summary: The five times Sam kissed you first and the one time you kissed Sam first Warnings: none, just get your dentists this is pure fluff Word count: 1397

The First Time Sam Kissed You First…

The party, organized by the usual suspects, was supposed to be held outside on the lawn of the Avengers Compound. Sam had moved back into his former quarters there for training new people and building up new initiatives for special special missions. With two job interviews you had lined up in the area, you joined Sam and were promptly roped into attending the party as well.

Now, you sat in front of a mirror on Sam’s desk. When you had asked why there suddenly was a mirror on his standard issue desk, Sam had looked at you as if he couldn’t figure out why you would even ask that. You unscrewed your lipstick and applied the first layer.

Sam, looking even more splendid than usual in his dark blue suit, came up behind you. He bent down and kissed you. It started as a soft kiss but Sam wasn’t a man to do things half assed. He cradled your head in his hands as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

When you came up for air, you chuckled. “There goes the first layer of lipstick. Straight onto your lips.”

“Then so be it.”

… The Second Time Sam Kissed You First…

You stood in the kitchen, shelling peas. Through the open windows, the sounds of rustling trees and of the sea wafted in. Cass and AJ worked through the mountain of sweet potatoes and Bucky had his difficulties with the seafood. He hadn’t moved too long ago, so he was still learning.

AJ complained about the amount of homework he had gotten from his history teacher. “He wants us to write about life in the 30s! But how are we expected to do that, when our book just tells us about dates and who was voted into which position when? That’s not ‘life’!”

“Life in the 30s, you say?” Bucky perked up.

Sam came into the kitchen. “Buck’s flexing how old he is again?”

“If it helps, Sam… And you still didn’t show me the Lord Of The Rings movies. Still!”

Sam stood next to you and kissed you gently on the lips. “Sorry for rushing out like this, need to get back to the boat.”

“Just come back in time to eat. You hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

… The Third Time Sam Kissed You First…

In one week, Cass would celebrate his birthday. Today, Bucky did something with AJ out of town, Cass had a school trip and Sarah had an appointment in town. So you and Sam were on grocery shopping duty.

“All right. We need ingredients for the pies, the cakes, some meat, a few vegetables, sweets and seafood-“ You listed off what everyone of the Wilsons’, you and the new step dad Bucky, had written down over the last days.

“You’re not suggesting we of all families buy seafood.”

“Right. Forgot that for a second.”

“Forgot? How can you forget that? And who you’re married to?” Sam had the tone of voice of mock betrayal down to a T.

You squeezed his hands. “So, I get started on the pie and cake things and then we’ll meet at the sweets, after you get the other things?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You parted ways, each with a cart. You were quicker than Sam and now stood in the sweets aisle, debating what you should get or not. Especially for yourself. From the corner of your eye you saw the other customers; one looked very much like Sam. You turned your head. It wasn’t.

“Other side, love.”

You turned your head the other side and saw a grinning Sam. Before you could do anything, he kissed you sweetly.

“Which kinds do you think we should get?” You held up several kinds of gummy bears.

… The Fourth Time Sam Kissed You First…

The sunlight was too… sunny. Bright. Early. You groaned. Smiling at the memories that resurfaced with the pleasant ache in your muscles, you rolled out of bed. The sun that filtered in through the blinds at least warmed your body.

You fumbled blindly around the bath, still too tired to make the effort to look closely at everything you saw each morning and evening. You reached for your toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste on it. The door opened and you smiled tiredly at Sam. He smiled back and reached for his own toothbrush.

Sam moved closer to you and put his head between your toothbrush and your mouth. He pecked your lips. He stroked your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth. When you did, Sam sucked your tongue into his own mouth and gripped your head.

You came up for air. “Sam, I still have morning breath…”

“I care about a great many things but morning breath is not one of them” Sam mumbled, only inches from your lips and never loosening his grip on your head.

… The Fifth Time Sam Kissed You First…

It was a normal humid day in Delacroix. Sam was home and after breakfast you now prepared to drive into New Orleans to an animal shelter. For weeks now, Sam and you had talked about getting a dog and when you had thought about everything you needed to do, pay attention to and whatnot, you looked through the adoption process and set about making your life dog-friendly.

At the shelter, you and Sam were shown to the dog kernels. The person you had already talked on the phone stayed with you for a bit to show you the dogs you had shown interest in and then left. She had told you she’d pay attention to how you behaved with each of the dogs from afar.

The first dog she brought out was a female Golden Retriever. One of her eyes was milky but still, she walked quickly to you. She took her time to smell you, before she gave you a small lick. She turned to Sam and after smelling him as well, she boxed him with her nose.

“I think you’re supposed to do something” You smiled at the dog and then Sam.

“Yeah? I’m supposed to do things?” Sam was already entirely smitten with her. You wouldn’t be able to get him out of the shelter without this dog by side. Not that you planned to.

The two of you played with her and petted her. You went on a small walk around the shelter to see how she behaved, but you both knew the decision to adopt her was basically made.

“So, what do you say? Wanna adopt her?” Sam grinned at you and the dog’s tail thumped against the floor.

“Yeah. I think this good girl wants us to take her home, doesn’t she?” You petted her softly.

The thump-thump-thump of the Labrador’s tail increased.

“Love you” Sam mumbled and pulled your face to his. He cradled you in his hands.

A wet snoot wedged itself between you and Sam.

“And you, too” He smiled down at her.

… And The One Time You Kissed Sam First.

Your body seemingly told you it didn’t need more sleep, despite it being five am. No nightmare woke you, no wet snoot from someone who wanted to go on a walk no matter the time, no sudden movement from Sam who would turn so quickly in his sleep he’d wake you up and then trap you in his bone crushing cuddles.

Turning your head, you looked at Sam. The sun didn’t yet rise so there was only the faintest of light playing on Sam’s features. His eyelids, relaxed and his eyes unmoving, his lips slightly parted. You leant over him and kissed his forehead. It creased and relaxed when you trailed your lips down his nose. Now, that scrunched up a little. You continued with his cheeks. You went down from his temples and didn’t leave a spot untouched from your lips.

Sam’s lips were now opened a little more and you kissed the corners of his mouth softly. You softly sucked on his bottom lips before you snaked your tongue into his mouth and cradled his face.

When you stopped kissing him, you heard his voice, raspy from sleep. “Why’d you stop?”

“Who said I was stopping?” You mumbled over his lips.

“He.”

“But I am pausing. There’s a morning run waiting for us” You smirked.

#my things #my writing #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson fic #sam wilson x reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #captain america x reader insert #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic

86 notes · View notes

theysayitscrazy · 3 years

Text

Motel El Royale || Fan Fic Friday

Clay Spenser x Reader

Reader x Sonny Quinn Sister

A/N: Shout out to @bravo-four-seal-team and her goat series for the lovely conversation taking place in this.

Taglist: @rebelwrites @rebelreblogs @heathermann200 @bravo-four-seal-team

Warnings: Pillow talk, annoying brother antics, one bed...oops.

~*~

Rain slashed against the Nova’s windshield. The wiper blades whipped back and forth, unable to keep up. After the second time the tires hydroplaned on the interstate, Clay swore. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes and continued staring out the passenger window. This trip was such a bad idea. Sonny was stranded in the middle of nowhere, another bad idea, and needed a ride. Only when you went to start your car, it wouldn’t start.

You cursed the POS silently for the 100th time that night.

You’d been at the bulkhead with the guys when Sonny had called you. Your brother was on his usual post-Davis-break-up bullshit, and you were annoyed when his face popped up on your phone. Not only had you gave him shit over the phone while sitting at the bar with the rest of Bravo, but you had called him back when your POS car wouldn’t start to give him more shit. Your car had worked fine on the way to the bar.

Sonny had called Clay, who and walked out of the bar while on the phone with him and motioned toward the Nova. After he hung up with your brother you sighed and walked over. “Why don’t you jump in?” Clay called across the parking lot.

“Because that sounds like a horrible idea,” you grumbled under your breath. Two hours trapped in the car with pretty boy was the last thing you wanted to that evening.

“We can go get him together,” Clay added, seeing your hesitation.

“Alright,” you called back to him. “Fuck my life,” you grumbled under your breath and grab your hoodie and purse off the passenger seat and headed toward Clay.

The drive had been relatively quiet. You’d taken over the radio as soon as Clay hit the interstate and headed out to the hills where Sonny had taken up residence.

The rain was icing on the cake, and you were exhausted when Clay pulled into, “Motel El Royle,” you grumble as you read the blinking Vacancy sign out by the highway.

“Looks like something out of Norman Bates movie,” Clay sighed. “There’s nothing else around,” he added as he pulled into the parking lot.

“If Chris Hemsworth comes stumbling in from the rain, I call dibs,” you murmur as he parks the nova in front of the office.

Clay shoots you a grin and nods once. “So, I get Dakota Johnson?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. “You can have Jeff Bridges.”

His laugh rumbles out of his chest, filling the quiet Nova, startling you.

You glance at him and wish you didn’t. Those pearly whites were flashing in the dim lighting from the motel building. His smile was infectious, and you found your lips tugging upwards. It was hard to be indifferent around him when all you wanted was to wrap your arms around him and pull his hard body against yours.

You couldn’t though. He was your brother’s best friend. There were bro codes about that. Shit you and brother had a bro-code about that.

“You alright?” Clay asks, catching you staring.

You snap out of it quickly and smirk, “Just imagining you looking like a drowned rat when you return from getting us a room.”

His grin falls and you smirk.

“Go be a gentleman and get us a couple rooms,” you say as rain beats down on the hood and roof of the Nova.

He shakes his head in disbelief but turns to get out of the car.

Once he’s out of the car and making the mad dash to the front door, you sigh. “Come on, Y/N, get your shit together already.”

Why did he have to be so God damn gorgeous? You watched him through the window, talking to the guy at the front desk. You needed a cold shower after the last two hours in the car with him. Something about the man and his sexy ass car made you hot. Fuck, everything about that man made you hot.

You watched as he grabbed the key from the front desk guy, before he headed toward the door and stopped, looking out. He was already soaking wet from his short walk inside. His grey t-shirt was clinging to his body more than it usually did.

He rolled those muscular shoulders back and braced himself for opening the door.

You grinned broadly at him and waved.

He sent a glower your way.

You blew him a flirt kiss and watched as a smirk pulled across his lips. Oooh baby boy was looking cocky as fuck as he strolled out of the motel and into the rain.

Only he didn’t walk to the driver’s side…he leisurely strolled around the Nova to the passenger side and pulled the door open before you could even think of locking it. “What are you doing?” you ask dumbly, as he reaches for your hand and pulls you out of the car.

Its pouring buckets. Too dangerous to drive, and this man is pulling you out into it. “Fuck Clay!” You shout as the piercing rain hammers down on you. “It hurts!”

He laughs and spins you out and away from the car, holding your hand. When he pulls you back and you spin into him, you gasp. Is he dancing in the rain with you?

You look up at him confused as he grins down at you.

There’s no music, but he wraps an arm around your waist, sliding his hand to the small of your back, and pulls you against him. “What are you doing?” you question, even though your hand slides up his bicep to rest on his shoulder.

“Just go with it,” he grins down at you. He squeezes the hand he’s still holding and begins to lead.

“Fuck,” you think to yourself as you let him guide you around in a small circle in the parking lot.

You can’t take your eyes off him. Those blue eyes are dark with desire and he’s watching you just as closely. There’s something magical about the moment and you suddenly don’t care that your soaking wet, clothes clinging to you, and freezing your ass off.

Clay’s gaze on you is all at that matters. His hand in yours. Your body pressed against his.

A ringing cell phone breaks the moment, and you jump back, startled.

Clay looks annoyed but pulls out the cell from his pocket and flashes you the screen so you can see that its Sonny. You nod once, and Clay walks around the car to the driver’s side as he answers the phone. You slide into the front seat and close the door behind you, shivering as you drip onto the leather seats.

“Yeah man,” Clay says, speaking over the roar of the rain on the roof of the car. “Nah, we had to pull over. The roads are flooding. We found a motel for the night. You gonna be good till morning?”

“Yeah brother,” Sonny’s voice was loud and clear in the Nova. “Don’t be gettin’ any ideas about my sister.”

“Sorry man, you’re breaking up! Storms loud! I’ll you in the morning,” Clay answered and hung up on Sonny.

You look over at Clay with a confused grin on your face.

He shrugs a shoulder and smiles. “Let’s go find our room.”

You’re suddenly nervous as Clay starts the car and heads around the building to the back. Once parked, you realize you don’t have anything. No clothes to change into. You’re soaking wet and freezing cold.

Clay parks the car and you both run out into the rain again, to get under the overhang. Clay unlocks the door quickly and you stumble through, only to stop dead when you see the one bed in the room. “Fuck,” you groan.

“What’s wrong?” Clay asks.

“There’s only one bed,” you mutter, pointing to the thing like it offended you.

“It was the last room they had,” Clay’s voice was soft behind you.

You sigh and walk further into the room and set down your purse. “Any chance you have clothes in your car?” you ask him over your shoulder.

“Uh… actually,” he says and nods once.

You glance at him.

“I might. Let me check.” He heads back out into the rain, and you move to the window to watch.

He uses his keys to open the trunk and you grin when he pulls out his ‘Go bag’.

A moment later he’s back in the room, dripping water all over the floor, bag slung over his shoulder. “You’re in luck. I just did laundry,” he grins as tosses the bag on the dinette table under the window.

Something about the table has you glancing around the motel room, taking it in again. 70’s wallpaper. Weird divider by the door. “Does this look like something the Winchester’s would stay in?” you ask, glancing around.

Clay chuckles but looks around too. “Alright, that’s a little creepy,” he admits.

You nod, but motion to the bag. “Think you got a pair of shorts and shirt in there I can wear? I’m gonna hit the shower.”

Clay nods and starts digging. A moment later he’s passing you a pair of drawstring shorts and a Navy t-shirt. You murmur a thanks and head into the bathroom.

You take your time in the bathroom, savoring the heat of the spray from the shower head. That little dance in the rain chilled you to the bone and you have no desire to head back out into the main room. That one bed, though a king size, was not going to do well for your poor attempts at staying away from your brother’s best friend.

Neither were his hairbrained ideas for dancing in the rain…and why would Sonny choose that moment to warn his buddy away? Was there something going on?

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. “You drowning in there?” Clay’s voice sounded amused on the other side.

“I’ll be right out,” you call back and sigh. “Fuck my life,” you grumble to yourself.

After you dry off and change into his much larger, but dry clothes, you wrap the towel around your hair on top of your head to dry, and head out into the main room.

Clay’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, dripping everywhere.

“Shit, you must be freezing,” you admonish and move out of the way. “Go!” you point toward the bathroom.

He nods and grabs a bundle of clothes off the bed.

While he’s showering you make quick work of hanging your wet clothes from the curtain rods and crank the heat up, praying your clothes would be dry by morning. Then you dig in your purse for a brush and hair tie, before you brush out your hair and pull it back into ponytail.

You glance around and realize its late. It’s past midnight, so you pick your side of the bed and crawl in, setting your phone on the nightstand. You shut the light off, and leave the one on, on the other side of the bed.

Your heart races when you hear the water shut off in the bathroom. You think about closing your eyes, but you’re too wired, and what’s the point. He’d know you wouldn’t be sleeping yet… and thank God you didn’t.

Clay walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of boxers, carrying his wet clothes. He glances at you to see you watching him and then heads to the curtains to hang his own wet clothes next to yours, above the heater.

“You cool with sharing?” he asks you, hovering next to the side of the bed.

You glance over your shoulder at him and nod.

Then he’s sliding into bed and the large king size, suddenly feels small. His large body takes up so much space, you know if you roll over from your little square that you claimed, you’d be touching him.

A moment later, the room descends into darkness as he shuts off the light. You let out a yawn and try to get comfortable but find that you’re still too wired to sleep. You turn onto your back and stare up at the dark ceiling.

“You alright over there?” Clay’s voice is soft in the dark.

“Mmm,” you respond, not sure what to say.

“What kind of trouble you think Sonny got up to this time?” Clay asks.

You let out small laugh and shrug in the dark. “Knowing him, something ridiculous.”

Clay’s rumbling laugh shakes the bed, and you grin. God sometimes your brother could find the most ridiculous situations to end up in. “Like the Goats?” Clay asked.

You bust out laughing hysterically. “From the Goat dealer?”

Clay answering laugh shakes the bed again.

“Then the cats?” You bring up, remembering when your brother tried to get rid of the goats.

“Blackburn was so pissed!” Clay laughed.

“But then you dumbasses had to take on a bull,” you smirk at him in the dark, rolling onto your side to face him. There was just enough light peaking through the curtains for you to make out the outline of his face.

Clay laughed again. “To be fair, I thought as long as I outran Sonny, I’d be fine.”

You laugh and hit his shoulder. “Oh, great best friend you are.”

“At least I didn’t leave Butt-head in Blackburn’s car,” Clay chuckled and rolled on his side to face you.

You shake your head at him. “I swear you guys are a bunch of overgrown man children,” you chuckle.

Clay grins at you and props up on an elbow and rests his head against his fist, watching you.

As the conversation lulls, you think about Clay’s conversation with Sonny earlier. “Hey Clay?” you murmur.

“Yeah Y/N,” he responds softly.

Your heart flutters at hearing your name in the dark, from the blond God. “Why did Sonny tell you not to get any ideas about me?” You bite your lower lip, wondering why you even bothered asking.

Clay’s quiet a moment before he slides closer to you. His hand reaches out in the dark and finds your body. His hand slides down your side and around your back, before he’s pulling you against him. “I thought by now, that’d be obvious,” he murmurs, his face inches from your own.

Your breathing is ragged as your heartbeat ticks up. Is this really happening?

You reach your hand up between your bodies to run your fingers through his scruffy beard. “And what’s obvious?” you ask.

He pulls your body even closer and then his hand slides up your back to the back of your head. He tilts your head to the side with his large hand and pulls you to him as he captures your lips in a searing kiss.

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull him toward you.

You lay there, making out for a while before he pulls back and hovers over you. “Obvious enough?” he asks.

“Mm, no,” you smirk up at him. “I think you’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Go out with me,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oohh, getting a little demanding over there.”

He chuckles and leans down, claiming your lips in another breathtaking kiss.

“Mmm,” you moan into the kiss.

“Yes?” he mumbles when he comes up for air.

You roll your eyes and pull him on top of you. “Yes, you blonde idiot,” you answer, and kiss him again.

#Seal Team #Seal Team Fan Fic #Seal Team Imagine #Seal Team x Reader #Clay Spenser x Reader #Clay Spenser Fan Fic #Clay Spenser Imagine #Sonny Quinn x Reader Sister #Goat Fics #Shout out to B4 #Pillow Talk Convo talks about B4's fic #FanFic Friday #Fan Fic Friday

121 notes · View notes

wispvial · 3 years

Link

So I finally posted my Franklin/Nubbins fanfiction, lol. Shout out to the three or so people who might enjoy it, I just had fun writing, even if I’m not confident! I wasn’t so sure about tagging, but there are allusions to violence and animal death, the kind you’d see in the movie.

#texas chainsaw massacre #nubbins sawyer #franklin hardesty #franknub #tcm #mine

70 notes · View notes

naralanis · 3 years

Text

little bumps in the road (pt. 3)

Parts 1 , 2

“are you taking it or not?”

the question isn’t even loud--it’s a murmur nearly lost to the noise of the ancient metal fan running full power in the small store, blowing the garments on the racks with a pitiful little breeze, but it’s enough to kick the gears into lena’s brain into grinding again.

she stares at the flannel shirt she’s been holding for too long--it’s a faded plaid of green-and-black, a men’s size that has probably shrunk in an unfortunate tumble in someone else’s dryer before ending up at this thrift store in the four-lane town they’ve stopped at.

lena blinks, feeling the fabric under her fingertips. it’s much softer than it looks, feels almost familiar in a strange way she doesn’t care to analyze. “what sort of weather am I even supposed to be packing for, anyway?”

kara gives her a look, but doesn’t answer her question. her eyes waver from lena to the shirt and back again a few times before she finally sighs. “take it. it goes with your eyes.”

lena assumes they’re not going anywhere too cold, since kara doesn’t buy them anything warmer than light jackets with the money she dug out from the road a few hours back. she hasn’t told lena where it came from or how she knew it was there, and lena hasn’t asked. talking, if there ever is any, has been done in short bursts and mostly out of necessity-- a ‘we’re stopping here’ or an ‘I need to pee.’ they certainly don’t discuss anything important, and given their situation, a mysterious briefcase full of money seems somewhat important.

they leave the store laden with paper bags full of clothing lena would probably never wear under normal circumstances, but that’s kind of the point, so she’s not about to complain. she knows better by now.

instead of going directly back to the car, kara leads them to a pay-phone down the street, and lena follows silently, waiting with the bags outside as kara produces a roll of quarters from her pocket and gets to work.

lena tries not to zone out as she hears the clicking of the phone, the mashing of buttons, and the clinking of coins. inside the booth, kara seems frustrated--she huffs in what lena knows is exasperation, but continues with whatever it is she’s trying to do without a word.

she doesn’t know how exactly, but she feels it, can’t really explain how she just knows, but it’s like someone dumped a bucketful of ice over her head; just like that, lena’s eyes snap open and she feels the hairs at the back of her neck standing at attention and she knows they’re being watched.

her heart is hammering in her chest in dull, rapid thumps that would definitely alert kara something is off if she still has her super-hearing (lena isn’t sure yet what the verdict is on that). lena tries, as discreetly as she can in her state of sheer panic, to look around, faking a stretch to crane her neck until she sees it.

there;s a man standing at the corner on the other side of their street. he’s leaning against a boarded storefront and trying to light a cigarette. it’s all completely innocuous, dare she say it, but their eyes meet across the street for a fleeting second and that sends a chill down lena’s spine.

an old, rumbling bus hisses and creaks down the street between them, and once it’s gone, so is the man.

it’s probably nothing. but a wanted criminal and the person she supposedly killed can’t exactly take any chances.

“kara,” lena calls out softly as she taps on the booth’s dirtied glass, trying to sound natural and failing horrible if the way her own voice squeaks out of her is any indication. she also realizes with a start this is the first time she’s spoken kara’s name since.. well. it hits her like a truck and this probably isn’t the time to dwell on it.

“kara,” she hisses again, opening the cabin. the blonde shoots her an incredulous glare that wilts into worry as soon as she registers lena’s panic. “kara, someone’s watching us.”

the phone clangs back into its hook loudly, and kara curses under her breath--lena has never heard kara curse before. she grabs her bags on one hand and takes lena by the wrist with the other, leading her back to the car at a near sprint.

“who? where?” she asks as they walk, her grip so tight around lena’s grip she would have broken the bone into dust were she at her full power.

“a man, at the street corner just now,” lena gasps, struggling to keep up.

“where did he go?”

“i don’t--I don’t know--kara, you’re hurting me!”

kara stops so quickly lena almost slams straight into her back, but the blonde’s grip relaxes immediately and she moves to entwine their fingers together instead, resuming her walk at a more sedated pace.

“sorry,” she whispers, so low lena strains to hear. “did you happen to see where he went?”

lena can only shake her head, afraid a moment of uncertainty may have unnecessarily led to more stress and fear. “no,” she finally says, trailing off with shame. “i’m not even sure if he was actually watching us. i just... i just had a feeling.”

to her surprise, kara nods and squeezes her hand in reassurance as they reach the jeep. “always trust your gut.”

their newest purchases are tossed in the back without ceremony, and in a matter of seconds kara’s peeling away from the empty car park, tires screeching as she speeds onto the road.

the silence is tense, this time. not that it hasn’t been tense in the last few days, but the sheer adrenaline running through lena’s veins and the worry kara fails to conceal work together to add another heavy layer of tension like the icing on top of a particularly disgusting cake. lena can’t take it anymore.

“where are we going, kara?”

it feels weird to use her name now--like lena is undeserving. kara’s only answer is a grimace she fails to hide in time.

“where did that money come from, and how did you know it was there?” lena pushes, watching the needle of the speedometer climb up from the corner of her eye. “who were you trying to call? why are you even running with me?”

“stop,” kara grits out, muscles straining at her neck and jaw. her grip on the steering wheel tightens as the speedometer climbs, and lena knows, she knows she should stop, but it’s been days and days and days with no answers and she’s had enough.

“no!” she practically shouts. “you’ve been dragging me up and down the country--is there a plan here? if so, what is it? why are we running together?? how can you even stand being near me? how come,” and then she chokes, realizing she’s crying far too late to do anything about it. “how come you didn’t actually die?”

“i did!” kara shouts, hitting the breaks and swerving into the shoulder so suddenly it gives lena whiplash. they come to an abrupt stop in the thankfully deserted road, and kara is panting, shaking so hard the entire car trembles with her.

“what?”

“i did die,”she says, softer this time, voice trembling almost as much as her shoulders. “i was unresponsive for five whole minutes. alex brought me back.”

lena wants to say something, anything, but her brain is completely stuck on the fact that supergirl did die. words don’t make it past her throat; all that rises is bile, and she narrowly makes it out of the door and onto her knees on the pavement as she vomits.

It plays in her head on a loop, supergirl falling out of the sky, riddled with green, kara--kara, her kara, lying dead for however long in a crater on the pavement.

and it was all lena’s fault.

<< Previous || Next >>

#nara's word vomit #supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #fanfiction #femslash #just enjoy the ride folks #we may be here a while #this really got away from me huh #LBitR

232 notes · View notes

darthwheezely · 3 years

Text

a change of heart - g.w.

summary: falling out of love was the last thing they had wanted.

pairing: muggle au!george weasley x reader

warnings: mentions of break ups, sex, cussing, ouid, heartbreak, no happy endings, apathetic!george, domestic fights, mean!reader (at times), insinuations of depression, toxic relationship

a/n: this is my first angst without a happy ending and honestly it feels very last 5 years to me and i was in a bad mood yesterday so this happened i love you all mwah xoxo

are we awake?

am i too old to be this stoned?

George blinked in what felt like slow motion at the crumbling ceiling above him as he took another long drag of his joint. He breathed out, his lungs and mind relaxing under a slimy green haze. The bed was spongey, destroyed from one too many sexual escapades and one night stands and full body tantrums that left him kicking and screaming.

His mind never really woke up after the day you packed up and took the bus downtown back to your parent’s. He usually laid there in a collapse of old cassette tapes and cannabis flecks, generally shirtless and wearing wear bleached boxers and lost.

George was never really awake after you.

was it your breasts from the start?

they played a part

You were stunning to him that day in London. You always were. That hadn’t been any different. But the day you walked into the pub everything about you just ached to be adored, he thought. He wanted to know what it was like to attach his mouth to the skin of your collar bone and nibble, knead at your breasts and have his fingers gripping your thighs the second you struck up a conversation.

“Two whiskeys and a beer later and I still don’t know your name,” he gave a little half smile and watched you bite your lip, a chuckle erupting from your throat.

“Y/N.”

“No last name?”

“Don’t need one, not yet anyway. You?”

He looked at you softly and nodded to himself.

“Let’s see if I can change that. I’m George.”

George needed you. Or at least, he thought he did.

for goodness’ sake

i wasn’t told you’d be this cold

He passed out on the couch, the old and relatively shitty TV left on static due to inactivity and refusal to be fixed.

You were supposed to have date night. At least, that’s what George thought. He knew you’d be out and about all day at work and then picking up dinner on the way home, but when you stumbled through the door at 2am, he shot awake. And in a flash of anger, he just picked up on the idea that date night didn’t really matter to you then, at least not tonight.

“Baby-“

“Don’t fucking baby me,” you had growled, looking at him with streaks of mascara running down your face. You sniffles and wobbled off to the bathroom, leaving an albeit confused George on the couch. He listened to you cry in the bathroom, and suddenly realized it didn’t matter if you were pissed at him or scared or whatever was happening.

At least you came home.

you smashed a glass into pieces

that’s around the time i left

“Fine,” you had shouted, picking up the now empty wine glass from the table and throwing it at the cabinets across from you.

The night had started off fine, the dinner was neutral - that had been your new normal with George. Neutral. You two weren’t really angry anymore, just tired. Until you both got in that heated argument and were screaming, the radio getting blown out your earshot due to the high intensity yelling in the room.

The minute the glass hit the cabinet you jumped ever so slightly, not really realizing you had done it, but knowing the lashing out of yourself had scared you just enough. You had let out a choking whimper and quickly enough, your boyfriend had rushed over to you and held you up.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed against his chest. “Georgie, I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

He knew you weren’t really apologizing for a wine glass, or missing a date or two. He knew it was everything, and the idea that you were getting blamed for it all in your mind due to things you didn’t feel safe telling him about crushed him.

“My sweet girl,” he cooed, his nose and mouth pressing into the top of your head.

He pulled off the top of your head, brushing the tears from underneath your eyes “I love you so much, and you can push me away as hard and as much as you want but I’ll come right back, every single time.”

You nodded and fell back into his arms, and George regrettably swallowed.

He had just made a promise he knew he wouldn’t keep.

then she said, "i’ve been so worried about you lately"

"you look shit and you smell a bit"

“George,” you had cleared your throat and sat up a bit straighter in the chair.

It had been approximately two months since he had pushed away from you, and since then you had heard radio silence from the man that had stolen your heart and left your mind mush. But here you were back in the apartment at the behest of Fred who had been, admittedly, “worried fuckin’ sick” about his younger twin.

The apartment was disgusting. Dishes from weeks left in the sink that had most likely caked mold and other major nastiness. Everywhere it smelled like cheap beer and even cheaper weed. It was nauseating to be at the dining room table, looking at the face that used to be George Weasley, but was now puffy, like he’d been getting over crying every single day, his eyes red rimmed and purpling, his usually pale but still vibrant skin tone sallow and raw.

“Georgie, they’re worried about you,” you said softly. He snorted and took another bite of his Ramen.

“George, you look shit, you’re just a-a shell, and your mom has no clue what’s going on, Fred can’t keep up with demands for the record store without you and god, everyone just misses you-“

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he cut. He clenched his jaw before finally looking back up at you, nodding ruefully to himself.

“You saw to it that I always was.”

i feel as though I was deceived

i never found love in the city

i just sat in self-pity and cried in the car

“Pass the damn thing, Fred, Jesus, you bong hog,” George playfully slapped his older brother on the chest. It was their best friend Roger’s nineteenth birthday, and as such, it was 4 in the morning, everyone either knackered as hell or making out in the corner. But Fred always opted to light up with George, especially since he knew it’d be the last time before the Big Move to the City as they referred to it.

“I am, I am, calm your tits, mate!” Fred had puffed into the air, sliding the bong to his brother and watching him inhale. He coughed, George always coughed - as much as he said he was the more mature and worldly one, he still got these little flashes that proved only to Fred that George was his baby brother.

“You know what I’m gonna do once we get to Londontown, Freddie-bomb?”

“What would that be, Georgie?” He smirked, leaning back against the couch. George grinned to himself and finally looked at Fred.

“I am going to find the most beautiful girl and marry her outright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And she’s going to have the most gorgeous mind - her brain, y’know. And and we’ll talk about music and art and shit I don’t care sex and whatever the hell else she likes, and I’ll buy her flowers and perfume and pretend I know what I’m doing because I’m a dumb kid and hell, I’ll fall in love so fast...and I hope she does the same...”

George sat in his beat up old Volvo, took in a shaky breath, and started to sob. His fists delivered downward strikes against his steering wheel at his memories, the feelings of love and joy he knew were still there begging to be freed.

But for now, he’d cry.

oh, i just had a change of heart

The answering machine clicked on, the voicemail ringing through the silence in the bedroom. “Hey, Y/N...sweetheart, we - I - can’t do this anymore,”

i just had a change of heart

“It’s not your fault, baby, but...angel, we can’t do this anymore,”

i just had a change of heart

“I loved you so much and we’re killing each other and I-I couldn’t do anything to stop it except hope that it would pass one day, because we could always make it pass, we could do that,”

i just had a change of heart

“But baby, it’s time to...it’s time to stop. For now, at least until things are better - until we are better,”

i just had a change of heart

“Until we can fall back in love again...I just know we can.”

The machine stopped clicking.

taglist! @whizboingies @harrysweasleys @wandsandwheezes @valwritesx @lumosandnoxwriting @amxrtentias @mothermantids @cyliamarti @shakinganxiety @godricsswords @rosietoesy @jorduhnn @sinfulweasley @wand3ringr0s3 @jaywritesstuff0 @anchoeritic

#George weasley fic #George weasley x reader #George weasley #George weasley angst #Fred and George #Fred and George fic #the weasley twins #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic #George weasley imagine #darthwheezely

203 notes · View notes